Nature of the Beast
by haruharu
Summary: Strange things happen in Santa Carla. Missing persons, unexplained murders, and some say when the sun goes down never walk into the woods...If only the new kid in town would have listened. Deeper summary inside.


**A/N: **Okay I'm writing this story because I'm absolutely flabbergasted at knowing that someone hasn't written it before me. It seems so basic level, ya know? Could also use a Beta. Please inquire within.

Anyway long story short, Tommy is a real _monster_ in this story. I have a very different opinion on how werewolves should act, so expect some serious shit going down. Furthermore, Merton is a true goth in my tale. Not that he didn't act like a goth in the series, but to me he was more on the fringes of _goth_ than what I would have expected from the late 90s. Finally, this story doesn't take place in 'Pleasentville', for the sole reason I laugh at that name. Too much like 'Sunnyville', and this isn't a Buffy story.

So that being said, I hope you enjoy my little were-tale.

**Title:** Nature of the Beast

**Pairing:** Merton/Tommy

**Rating:** M

**Summary: **Strange things happen in Santa Carla. Missing persons, unexplained murders, and some say when the sun goes down never walk into the woods...If only the new kid in town would have listened. Merton Dingle gets more than he can handle when he encounters a real beast of his nightmares. The moment he looked into those monstrous eyes, he knew that he was dead.

* * *

**Nature of the Beast**

Chapter 1: Santa Carla

By: haruharu

* * *

o.o.o

'_It's mouth was like a cavern of death, daggers lined floor to ceiling. It's claws, curved back and sinister in the growing light. Then the eyes, oh the eyes. What evil he saw there. There was no hope in those eyes, only the silent window of death.' _

It was early autumn when Merton J. Dingle first learned that he was getting the boot to Santa Carla. He knew it was coming; his parents had been talking about a transfer for a long time. Ever since his foster father had been laid off at the attorney's office, his family had been looking for alternative living situations. So when Mr. Dingle got offered a job at twice the pay, the temptation was too much, and the next thing Merton knew was that the Dingle's were headed for Santa Carla.

Packing was nothing too complicated. He had surprisingly more than expected however, considering he had joined the Dingle family only two years ago. Looking back, he supposed that the Dingles had hoped for a friendly starry-eyed boy with a big heart, and instead got a shy misunderstood kid with a sketchy past. Nevertheless, it was a comfortable life and his family _did _love him, even if they rarely showed it.

Packing his remaining occult tomes into a cardboard box, and topping it with a good dose of duck tape, Merton stacked the last of his things in front of the door for the movers to export out.

While waiting by the door, Merton gave one last look at his old room of two summers. Time had seemed to fly by, and just when he was starting to feel comfortable in his current school, his family had to go and uproot him again. Like that hadn't happened enough in his life.

Pushing the images of his earlier years behind him, the pale boy walked to the single window in the room and looked out below. His parents were busy ushering boxes into the moving truck, while his sister was busy yelling at one of the movers as he passed boxes into the vehicle. Merton had 10 bucks on her stuff not making it through the trip _'undamaged.'_

A few minutes later a couple of burly men escorted his boxes down the stairs with Merton at their heels. He kept his head down when his sister demanded where the hell he'd been, and that they would have already been on the road if it weren't for him. Ignoring her constant complaints on how he was a freak to the family, Merton shoved his hands in his cargo pants and shut himself off in the back of the Torus wagon. His sister reluctantly followed.

10 minutes later and they were on the road to California, and the mysterious Santa Carla where Merton's new future lay.

* * *

_o.o.o_

_Santa Carla woodlands, _

_The edge of the city_

His senses were on fire. During the change they always took on a superior heightening, but nothing like this night. The moon was erect; its glow red with the autumn evening, and Tommy revered its insidious hold over his mind.

Not even halfway through the change and Tommy had smelt the scent of his first kill of the night. A doe he surmised, by the level of abject fear seething off of his senses. The perfect beginning to a perfect night, he told himself. The doe's lean flesh would rest nicely on his changing stomach.

During the change, he couldn't eat like an animal, because he still beheld the organ systems of a human. It wasn't until his body was reformed as the beast that he would have the appropriate digestive system to handle the raw flesh of his fallen.

Delving through the forest at night Tommy sought out the animal, finding it silently grazing near an outcropping of trees. Crouching low to the ground, Tommy forced his wolf senses to the front of his mind and concentrated on the imminent slaughter. The moon was at half-masts now, and the slow wrinkle of changes started encroaching on his body. And with his humanity weaning, the wolf inside him matured, stripping his mind of reasoning, and imprinting feral instincts. Reclaiming authority over his bestial reflexes, Tommy ducked himself farther into the underbrush, determined to exercise his control over the wolf nature until the breaking point at high moon. While Tommy had become quite at home with the monthly change over the seasons, the rabid loss of control and resulting gaps in memory had weighed on him since day one. And life had become a lot more difficult to juggle when the slightest frustration could set off an all-out transformation from charming-boy-next-door, to ravenous-beast-from-hell. The human side of him wanted to push supremacy over the wolf, control and cage it within his mind. Where as the monster side of him intended to rip apart his self-control and plant the seed of evil within his consciousness. Not much of a choice, but one hell of a ride. Collecting his nerves, Tommy decided to sit back and enjoy it.

In a flash of blood and flinging flesh, the young wolf ripped from the brush and into the soft relenting skin of the doe. Carousing from his kill, the beast ripped into the carcass and devoured its organs happily. Nothing felt better than fresh blood on an early moon; just before his humanity vanished completely, and had enough reason to understand _what_ he was doing. Tommy loved it.

It was another hour before Tommy had finished licking the corpse dry. By the time he rose from his frightful deed, it was hardly a corpse, and more like a pile of haphazard flesh sprayed across the ground. Licking his lips, Tommy flexed his freshly changed stomach muscles, reveling in the pleasurable gurgle of the doe being digested within the plump bulge. Tommy rubbed the ungratified hump in his gut and gorged his senses for more. It wasn't enough. The change brought out a hunger that no glutton could compare. He needed to eat, he wanted to eat, and he would defile himself until satisfied.

The transformation was almost complete now. As Tommy ran through the forest his claws and teeth sharpened more and hair prickled all over his body. It wouldn't be long before high moon, and the beginning of this nightmare. Hearing a scream not far away, Tommy halted in his tracks and scanned the area. His acute hearing could make out the lustful squeals of a woman, while his superb sense of smell picked up on the accumulated pheromones in the air. It wasn't hard to guess what she was up to, and Tommy drooled in anticipation. Stalking up to the edge of the forest, Tommy could smell the distinct scents of two different bodies. One was a strong musk, laced with sweat and cheep cologne; the other was a thick mess of perfume, blood, and alcohol. The woman was intoxicated––an easy kill.

"No David, please…"

"You shut the hell up while I'm fucking you!"

"Oh God, please don't do this. Please David, anything but this––!"

"I told you to shut the fuck up, bitch! I'm gonna fuck a baby up your cunt, and yer' gonna like it, ya hear!"

Tommy heard another slap, and the overwhelming mix of blood and sex drunk him dry with hunger. The sounds of bodies slapping together was the last straw, not able to withstand it anymore, Tommy jumped from the brush and sprang on the couple.

"What the he––!" The man was interrupted as Tommy's claws dug into his face and ripped out his eyes. Blood splashed the man's shirt as he toppled over screaming and holding his withered face. Tommy didn't give the man a chance to recover, and ripped into his abdomen slashing downward to his exposed manhood. The man screamed again as new pools of blood sprayed from the incision, but Tommy didn't stop there. Snarling with barely controlled restraint, he gripped the man's cock and dug his claws deep into the tender flesh ripping it off. Tommy heard a guttural sound but ignored the man as he choked on his own blood and turned to the woman behind him.

The woman. The victim. His victim. High moon had risen and Tommy rejoiced in the full transformation as it took hold of his brain and bedeviled his heart. The woman whimpered in the darkness, asking if her rapist was still alive. Tommy gave no answer, but growled deeply, illuminating his horrific face with glowing yellow eyes. Tommy could hear the woman's heart accelerate, the rabid beatings in tune with her short breathing. She was scared, he knew. Inebriated, wounded, and frightened. Much like the grazing doe, she was his frail oblivious lamb quaking in the presence of the wolf, waiting to be ravaged, waiting to be devoured.

"Wh-Who's there," she asked, but the wolf didn't answer.

"K-Keep away from me!" Again the wolf bled behind the darkness.

"Oh God, please help me…"

The wolf didn't allow her to utter another word. Within a flash Tommy was upon her, claws gripping her head to the ground, teeth tearing at her throat. She screamed, but the wolf didn't hear her. She tried to fight back, but the wolf was stronger. Like a glutton, Tommy licked up the blood as he cut into the woman's throat. He could hear he heartbeat slow, her movements lesson, and her conscious wean. It wouldn't be long before she died of blood loss, but Tommy was intent on enjoying her until then, every inch of her. Ripping off the remaining amount of undergarments, Tommy tugged her legs apart and thrusted his claws into her slut hole, twisting and ripping into the warm fragile flesh within. The wolf reveled in her pitiful pleas, but didn't stop there. Tearing his pants open, the beast ripped out his own cock and rammed it inside the bleeding warmth of the woman's cunt. The next moments scratched on like hours as the monster within pounded into the near-corpse with unrelenting violence. Blood mixed with the woman's own orgasm as she withered beneath his abuse; nearing his own climax, Tommy rocked his cum dumpster one more time before thrusting up against her cervix and spraying his infernal seed deep within her womb. The beast pumped himself until he was sated and dumped the now dead body on the ground. Blood and semen oozed in great globs down her now destroyed vagina, pooling at her desecrated corpse. The wolf smiled. Sexually satisfied, but still hungry, the beast decided to finish what he started and went down on the corpses again, devouring them.

The dark moved on, high moon the wolf's only witness to his heinous, monstrous actions. Praying on attack after attack, Tommy continued to hunt into the night, killing animals and consuming their organs. The morning was a long and welcome end to a black, insufferable night.

The dawn broke and with it Tommy awoke naked on the muddied earth. Picking himself up, he noticed the piles of disembodied flesh torn and skewed around his frame. Tommy stood slowly taking in the horror of scene. It had happened again, he knew. He had lost himself to the wolf and committed more atrocious slaughters, just like the beast he knew he was. Over the years Tommy had tried blaming the wolf for his spontaneous rage and animalistic behavior, but as the months weaned with the moon's faces, Tommy had reluctantly swallowed the possibility that it was _he _who was fueling the monsters actions. Sighing, Tommy brushed a bloodied hand over his tussled hair and kicked the remains of what looked like a German shepherd off his legs.

Walking home was a real drag. Tommy hadn't realized he'd isolated himself so deep within the forest. It was a good 30 minutes before Tommy saw the first of anything, and when he got a good look, he wished he hadn't. It was the garbled corpses of two people, so mangled and deranged the only semblance of humanity was their horror-stricken faces, which the wolf had left surprisingly intact. Tommy bit back his self-anger, and ran past the mutilated sight. He wanted to put as much distance between he and the massacre as he could. If history had ever taught him anything, the fuzz would sniff out the carnage before sun set. Tommy would know, he had single handily put Santa Carla on the supernatural celebrity map. The town was practically seated on a portal to hell, and Tommy was headlining the infiltration. Putting the thoughts from his naked mind, Tommy finally reached the back neighborhood, and what he called the _scenic-safe _way home.

Running through the neighborhood, Tommy jumped the Smith's fence, and hopped through the Greenburg's pool-patio, sticking to the back ways in hopes to making it home before the sun peaked over the horizon. Tommy hadn't been trapped yet, but he'd be damned if he ever was caught naked in the early morning by the mailman or worse, Mrs. Simmons and her early morning jogs. He was close now; just a few more backyards to skate across and he'd be on Sunny St., and the final lap home. Tommy was about to climb Ms. Parker's rosebush when something he wasn't expecting caught his eye. Across the street, illuminating the overgrown yard like a beacon of light, was a "For Sale"sign with an added "Sold" nailed to it's shiny surface. Tommy couldn't believe it. The old Chester House had been sold. An actual family had decided to pick up the old gal and voluntarily live in her termite-ridden frame. Tommy almost laughed. What family would want to live in that dump? And it wasn't just his opinion. It was a known fact the Chester House was a haunted piece of crap with shoddy roofing and a flooding basement. In fact, he and his friends had a running bet that the next family to inhabit the gothic structure would be TV's, _The Munsters,_ or _The Addams Family_. Now Tommy really wanted to know if his friends were right or not. Personally he thought it'd be pretty cool to see Eddy Munster around town; at least then he wouldn't be the only werewolf stalking the night.

By the time Tommy got home that morning, it was close to 6 am. Opening the sliding patio door (that he conveniently kept unlocked every night), he was thankful that his brother had fallen asleep watching _Happy Days _again. Sneaking past the sleeping form of his brother on the family recliner, Tommy hurried up the stairs to his room. If he was fortunate he could catch a few winks before his alarm shrieked it's waking hour; just his luck the full moon landed on a school week this month.

* * *

o.o.o

Merton Dingle sat in his new room, trying to find the motivation to care about unpacking his things. But truth be told, he didn't care. Much like how he didn't care the last time he unpacked them, and the time before that. Merton had a history of being swept between foster homes, unpacking his menial belongings, and then repacking them again a few months later. It was his vicious cycle, his cross to bear; that there wasn't a person or family in the world that could accept him for who he was. And it was condemned to happen again, doomed to recur until he was eighteen and _mature _enough to be kicked out _Child Protective Services,_ and the warm bosom of Uncle Sam's nipples. Not that he cared.

Sighing to himself, Merton absently tore open a few more boxes, picking out his gothic knickknacks and strange keepsakes. He supposed he should at least try to enjoy the free meals while he still had the chance, and what better way to appease his family than to keep his head down and act the mindless obedient child. Walking over to his bed, Merton placed his skull lamp on his bedside table. The room was decent enough; black walls with chipping paint, hardwood floors that looked like termites had eaten into them, a single closet and a door that led to a private bathroom courtesy of his mother and the _shared toilet fiasco_ of '97.

A knock was heard, and Merton turned in time to see his foster mother walk in with a basket full of clothes and a smile on her face.

"Do you like your new room, Merton?"

Merton gave her a dismissive nod as he stacked some of his black-banded books onto a nearby shelve. Ignoring his silence, Mrs. Dingle set her basket of clothes on the dark navy sheets of Merton's bed, and began folding them to be put away. They worked in silence a moment, but Mrs. Dingle quickly shattered any chance of Merton escaping her happy-go-lucky mood, by asking him about school next week.

"Don't look so glum, honey. I'm sure you'll make tons of new friends," she stated as she folded a pair of batman briefs. "You're riding the bus tomorrow, don't you know."

"Thanks…mom, but I think I rather ride my bike if that's okay," he dismissed as he unpacked a stack of marvel comics.

"That most certainly isn't okay, Mister. I won't be havin' any of that sourpuss attitude from you, neither. Now you remember to dress nicely tomorrow so you can make a good impression with the students." As she hung his shirts in his closest, Merton heard her add something from inside, "And for the teachers too."

Sighing, Merton rolled his eyes and concentrated on balancing the footstool so he could hang his flying pterodactyls and vampire bats. Mrs. Dingle said something else from inside the closet, but Merton didn't hear, nor really care, so when she shut the door gossiping about the nosey neighbors and their noisy poodle, he frivolously nodded, ignoring her.

"And another thing, now I'll have to buy the family a whole new wardrobe. We're not in emerald country no more, it's short shorts and miniskirts as far as the eye can see. Sometimes I question the sanity of those parents that let their kids walk around with their undies hangin' out."

Sometimes Merton questioned the sanity of Mrs. Dingle.

"And do you remember when we first drove in, dear? Not a single house for a good 20 minutes; just rocky cliffs and ocean water. Not even a McDonald's, and let me tell you Rodger Dingle cannot go an hour without making a pee-break. We practically survive on those fast-food potties!"

Merton was about to kill himself. It would be so simple, just slam the box cutter right in the eye, no one would have seen it comin'; certainly not Mrs. Dingle, as she obliviously continued her clucking on his beanbag chair.

"And can you believe our neighbors, darlin'? Telling us our house in haunted, the nerve! Why they're just trying to pull the bull's leg, and let me tell you, I'm Texas-born, we don't mess with no bulls where I come from!"

The box cutter was situated under his eye now, ready to strike out at any minute. Just one tiny flick of the wrist and there'd be blood all over the floor, and Merton would finally escape Mrs. Dingle's senseless ramblings.

"By the way, son. Your sister found the cutest little dinner down town; lots of cute boys 'n' girls! Why don't you take a break from your….er, decorating, and go socialize Merton. Who knows, you might meet a little friend."

Merton ignored her dismissive gestures toward the organizing of his dead spider collection, and further snubbed her over use of the words, "cute, little, and friend," but when she mentioned dinner, his stomach growled in rebellion. He _was _hungry, and any place was better than spending another minute in Mrs. Dingle's company.

"Yeah mom, ya know, I just might do that."

"Oh that's wonderful, my little baby is finally growing up and leaving the nest!"

"Hey, I'm just getting a burger."

"Yeah well with you, I'll take what I can get."

Merton wanted to take that as an insult, but Mrs. Dingle carefully covered up any disdain with an unwanted smooch on his left cheek. Now he felt insulted and disgusted.

* * *

o.o.o

_Arnold's Burger Joint_

_Santa Carla Pier_

The walk to Arnold's was nothing trifling, and it would have taken him 40 minutes by bike, but Merton insisted on walking himself instead of digging through the garage with Mrs. Dingle. He had enough of that woman for one day. Walking up to the crowded parking lot Merton noticed the obvious age of the dinner. It looked like he had stepped back into the 1950's, complete with classic cars and a carhop on roller-skates. She was a bleach blonde, smacking gum, and racing back and forth from the drive-thru carrying trays of food. Merton was almost run over if it hadn't been for bike rack he fell back on; and he would have yelled at he too if she wasn't obliviously listening to a Walkman as she skated.

Picking himself back up, Merton walked into the dinner, the telltale _chime _of the bell announcing his entrance. Immediately a throng of condemning stares from the other patrons bombarded him. They were mostly local types, the kind with day jobs and free afternoons after school. There were several groups of teens that gave him intimidating glares, and few adults in burly coats who's faces reflected pity, or was it fear? Merton ignored them all as he shuffled himself into a booth near the back. The shopkeeper, a man who looked about as creepy as Freddy Krueger, was quick to his side demanding his order.

"What'll it be?" The shop keep asked, giving him a threatening stare.

Without looking at the menu, Merton ordered a burger and a shake, wanting to be rid of the overbearing old man. The man took his order and walked away, mumbling about the manners of kids these days. Looking ahead, Merton noticed the same teens from earlier staring at him again. The goth tried to play off their condescending glares with a few of his own, but was instead rewarded with hostile gestures and low whispering. Somehow, he didn't feel welcome in this town, and Merton's vibrant history with horror had images of crazy cultish townsfolk flying through his head. His burger couldn't get there fast enough, and when the shop keep placed the tray in front of him, Merton was thankful for an excuse to put his head down and hide.

"Yer' new in town, aren't ya?"

Mouth stuffed with burger, Merton barely caught the random question. Quickly gulping down some chocolate shake, Merton looked up to see the shop keep eyeing him seriously.

"Yeah, so?"

"We don't get many new folk, 'round here."

"Yeah well, lets just say it wasn't my choice to plant root here."

"Don't be smart, boy."

"Then don't be nosey, old man!"

Merton's outburst had the entire dinner staring him down their noses. Feeling somewhat embarrassed, Merton shoved his milkshake in his mouth with every extension to sink into the leather cushion.

"Don't think you can mouth off to me. Get out of my dinner."

Merton sighed and plopped down the money for his food and slid out of the booth. "Yeah well I was just leaving anyway." But before Merton could make it past the weird old man, a hand shot out and gripped him by the shoulder, turning him face to face with the hallow eyes of the shop keep.

"It's getting late, boy. Where you goin'?"

"Since when do you care?"

"You best go home, boy."

"Uh–yeah, like I'd wait around here any longer!" Merton jerked his arm out of the man's hold, eyeing him warily. "What's it to you?"

"Go home boy, keep to the lighted streets, and go straight home."

The other patrons had exited the dinner now, herded out like cattle and into the dawning evening. Merton was left wondering if it was something he said, or if the dinner just had a 6:00 pm curfew.

"Lighted streets? What are you talking about?"

The shop keep was behind the bar now, rushing around with dishes and throwing them in the sink. The grill cook and barhop girl were missing, Merton noticed. He figured the left with the rest of the costumers, which added more questions than answered. Merton found himself asking.

"They'd all gone, like you'd be doing."

"But why––hey what're you doing," Merton asked as he caught the bar keep shuffling on his coat and hat. "You're just going to leave? Don't you have to ya'know, clean the place?"

The man stopped in place and turned back to Merton; his arm still on the door mid crack.

"No boy, I'd be home before the sun sets. Now I've told you to do the same. It's up to you now."

"To do what?"

"Keep to the lighted roads," the man said as he opened the door. "And _don't_ wonder into the woods." And he was gone. Merton was left stunned in a deserted dinner, with the dying sun deepening before him. Cursing to himself Merton followed suit and ran home, unconsciously keeping to the major roads.

Once home Merton ignored his parents' plea to join them for _family game night, _and crawled up the stairs to his room, locking the door behind him. What a day. Somehow Merton knew he wasn't going to enjoy Santa Carla, serial killing townsfolk or not. Sitting down at the new desk he unpacked earlier, Merton booted up his old PC and decided to end the day on a good note; the only way he knew how: Solitaire; Spider Solitaire in his case. Clicking away at the pixelated cards, Merton played for hours dozily spacing out to the occasional 'beep' when he hit a royal flush. Suddenly the silence was pierced by a thunderous howling sound, not like anything he'd ever heard before. The roaring monstrous sound woke Merton from his daze, chills racing up his spine. Jumping to the windowsill, the goth couldn't make out anything in the dismal darkness but the effervescent glow of the full moon.

* * *

o.o.o

The next day Merton woke up to the reminiscent aroma of Mrs. Dingles chocolate chip pancakes, caked in heavy syrup per usual. Groaning at the artery-bursting thought, Merton slid out of bed and began his morning routine. Washing up and paling out, Merton dressed in his monotone garb of black on black, sparkled with the clank of silver jewelry. Grabbing his coffin case, Merton made a dash for the front door before Mrs. Dingle beckoned him to join in on the family breakfast. Running down the sidewalk, Merton hit the bus stop right before the school bus arrived. Walking onto the school bus Merton immediately noticed a sense of eyes on his back. Looking behind him, the surrounding students glared daggers in his direction.

"Kid you gonna sit down or what?"

Merton turned his attention to the bus driver and absently nodded his head before taking a seat in the front. When he heard the bus take off, Merton finally thought he could relax some. If only it were true. His fellow students excommunicated him like a social pariah, while Merton was left feeling even more like an outsider than he had ever before. Staring out the window, the goth tried to ignore their hateful glares and concentrate on the blissful scenery as it blustered by in a kaleidoscope of color. Santa Carla was a handsome town, that much Merton could admit. The kinds of town retirees come to die, and obese city folk retreat for the summer. He hadn't seen it all, but from what Merton had perceived, Santa Carla was a beach town like any other. It had its pier and theme park, downtown and farmland, parks and woodlands; it was just another dwelling to him, and that meant another place he'd have to content with. Or more accurately, the town content with him, as it seemed. The bus pulled up at the school, and Merton felt his heart sink. The kids filled out of the bus, Merton reluctantly following the herd. He felt a push on his back and tried to grab the guardrails before he fell flat on his face, but to no avail. Merton landed straight on his back, the concrete a fatal landing for his fragile spine. Rubbing his aching rear, Merton looked up into the condescending eyes of two jocks decked out in Santa Carla High letterman jackets. The laughed and sneered at his fall, calling him a dumbshit vampire, before stepping over him as the other students joined in laughing at his pitiful plight. Merton was rapidly learning how much he _hated _Santa Carla High School.

Walking into the school Merton was quickly lost among the throng of colorful students dressed in trendy style. Merton sighed, taking out his schedule and school map, when a chick in a halter-top bumped him aside, followed by a passing skateboarder. Merton was slammed into the surrounding lockers; his papers flying across the hall as students recklessly passed him by. It was like a war zone, he imagined; armies of relentless angst-ridden teens shoving and scratching their way through the swarm of dysfunctional bodies. Merton could never keep up with the current demographic, nor understand their style or trends. He was the lone adolescent on the edge of the mainstream, like the suckerfish, looking down his nose at the larger predators, while bottom feeding off their remains. The bell rung and Merton was suddenly alone in the empty halls. Sighing for what felt like the 10th time that morning, the goth reluctantly picked up his school map and followed it to what he hoped was his locker.

The locker was an ugly yellow color, the kind that looked like horse piss and usually stank as bad too. Merton descrambled the lock combination from his cargo pants and opened the locker door. It did smell like horse piss, he noted. Unhooking his coffin case, Merton put away his measly belongings, and went about decorating his new domicile with macabre pictures of vampires, zombies, and werewolves. All the things he loved. Merton was just about to close his locker and make the miserable march to his first class, when he heard the charming sound of someone cursing down the hallway. Turning around, Merton saw a man running down the hallway dressed in a letterman jacket, jeans, and the most disheveled hairstyle since his own spiked mop top.

"Shit, late again," the man said as he stopped right next to Merton and opened his own locker. "Damn alarm clock never works!"

Merton silently watched as them man cursed every pitfall he encountered that morning that led to his tardiness. The man was quite a bit taller than him, but then again Merton was only 5'8" and most guys his age were at least 5'10". This man however looked about 6'1", and had the handsome albeit adolescent good looks that Merton could never amount to. Feeling somewhat embarrassed Merton went back to his locker and pretended to organize it some more, leafing through notebooks and taping old horror posters on his locker door. Merton was trying so hard not to be noticed he didn't hear the locker door slam beside him.

"Hey kid."

Merton didn't respond.

"Hey I'm talking to you!"

Merton jumped at the sound and turned to see a pair of intense brown eyes staring him down. The man pointed to Merton's locker door with a set frown on his face.

"Hey are you really into that stuff?"

Merton blinked and looked down the man's finger to his horror pictures. Merton smiled shyly, great now he had to explain his obvious weirdness in depth. Couldn't the guy already see he was a giant frankin' freak, as his sister put it. Now he'd actually have to admit to his oddity, not that he was ever inclined to do so before, but the man's strange glare set him on edge and prickled the hair on his neck.

"Well I––!"

"You're new aren't you," the man interrupted. "And this is your locker?"

Merton eyed him. "Uh, yeah."

"And you're into this stuff?" The man leaned over and traced a finger over Merton's ghastly portraits. First the zombie, and then the vampire, his finger lingered on the werewolf before retracting, a deep-set look of utter disgust on his face. "What are you, a freak?"

Merton slammed his locker door and said, "What's it matter to you?"

"Santa Carla doesn't have a Goth scene, kid." The man sneered. "Plus aren't you a little old to be dressing for Halloween?"

Merton was pissed now. "At least I don't dress in cookie-cutter drab like the rest of the mundane swine in this school!"

"Mundane swine?––!" It was only for a second, but Merton could have sworn the man's eyes glowed. "Look kid, Santa Carla's too hot and sunny for you pale geeks anyway. So just run on home to Transylvania where you belong and stay there!"

There it was again, albeit briefly, Merton saw the distinct eerie glow of yellow in the man's eyes. The man combed an anxious hand through his hair and seemed to take a few deep breathes before apologizing. Merton listened as the man explained that he was just not used to having a locker neighbor, but Merton seriously doubted that was the only reason.

"Look, I said I'm sorry okay? I haven't…been sleeping well." The man stuttered. "Where did you say you were from?"

"I didn't. You were too busy being an asshole." Merton said before shrugging then answering the man's question. "Seattle, Washington."

"Ah, emerald country…What's your name, kid?"

"Merton. Yours?"

The man seemed to snarl and uttered a strange sound Merton couldn't understand.

"What?" Merton asked.

"I said my name is Tommy." He growled. "Tommy Dawkins."

Merton mentally flinched at the man's outburst. What was wrong with this guy? He flipped through emotions faster than his sister on the rag. The man was on edge, and Merton could see a cold sweat breaking on Tommy's brow.

"Are you okay?" Merton asked.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine."

Merton played with his combination lock, fumbling with the concept of making small talk with a jock. "So, you're a football player?"

"Yeah, quarterback." Merton watched, as Tommy looked anywhere but directly at him. "You know, they don't exist."

"What?"

"Monsters, zombies, that sort of thing. It's disgusting."

"Yeah well some people would rather believe in monsters than live with real evil, like humanity…"

Suddenly Tommy was upon Merton, hands gripping his collar, and death in his eyes.

"How dare you, only place-faced pentagram-toting ingrates would condemn their own race!"

Merton felt like he was going to choke to death. The guy's grip was like an iron vice, and Merton could swear there were claws digging into his flesh. Was all of Santa Carla this insane? Trying to tear Tommy's hands away from his throat, Merton struggled out a gurgled scream. That seemed to be enough to awaken Tommy from whatever living nightmare he was acting out. With a visual gasp from the taller man, Merton was dropped to the ground looking up to a frantic man beating into his locker.

"God damn it! Just what Santa Carla needs: another night-walking freak!"

"Freak––! I wasn't the one snarling and throwing people against lockers just now!"

Tommy seemed to pause at that. He punched the locker once more then mumbled something Merton didn't catch.

"Santa Carla's no place for you kid. Tell your parent's and get the hell out."

"Why is everyone telling me that?" Merton yelled. "The whole fuckin' town's on edge, and _some _have gone insane." Merton eyed Tommy. "Does it have anything to do with that billboard?"

"What billboard?" Tommy seemed interested now.

"The town's 'Now entering Santa Carla' billboard. As my family and I were driving in, I caught the back of it. There was some graffiti art, and giant red lettering that said, 'The most evil place in America.' I thought it sounded pretty cool, but now I think everyone's bat-shit crazy, not evil."

"Heh, bat-shit crazy."

"What, like you don't think so? In that case does everyone here just hate Goths?"

"I do." Tommy glared at him. "I loathe anyone who enjoys dressing like The Crow, and walks around like the prince of darkness."

Merton was about to object but Tommy carried on.

"It's sick. Anyone who believes in vampires and…werewolves are sick."

Merton wanted to throw it back in his face, but Tommy had stomped off. And once again Merton was left alone daze, confused, and pissed off. He _really _hated Santa Carla now.

The rest of the day went on as terribly as it began. Merton was shuffled from class to class, ignored, excommunicated, and spit-balled each time. Lunch was a welcome break from the droning norm of social abuse he was so used to, and Merton would be lying if he weren't looking forward to a few minutes by himself at the back of the Lunch Hall.

Walking into the Lunch Hall, Merton saw the perky silhouette of his foster sister squawking along with a gaggle of cheerleaders she no doubt wanted to join. Her brunette head bounced with faked enthusiasm at the clucking dribble the queen hens had to say. Rolling his eyes, Merton passed walked by his sister in silence, already freakishly aware that Beth wanted nothing to do with him, and if she had her way he'd be a headless stake in the ground. Merton unconsciously shivered at their previous discussion the night before.

"_I don't know you, twerp. And you don't know me, kay?"_

"_Like I'd want to spend time with your frilly girly friends anyway."_

_"Good, then don't talk to me, don't approach me, and don't you dare make any reverences that we live in the same house together! My social life won't be jeopardized just because you're too geeky to get a girlfriend!" _

Merton rolled his eyes again. Like he'd ever wanted to own up to living with _her _either. Merton knew very little about his sister, but he did know she loved unicorns, and that was good enough for him. Finding a empty table at the corner of the Lunch Hall, Merton sat down with his meager lunch, courtesy of Mrs. Dingle, and breathed in the fresh air of solitude. He was just about to take a bite into his PB&J, when a black eclipse obscured his vision. Looking up, Merton was suddenly very aware of two very large and broad men. Not boys, these two were way too fat and bulky to be kids, these two were quite possibly the only living proof of Darwin's theory of evolution. The one on the left sneered and stole Merton's sandwich right out of his hands.

"Give me your sandwich, punk," the one on the left said. "Aw man, Peanut butter and jelly? What your mama make this for you?"

Merton was about to say something when that very same sandwich was shoved right back in his face. The duel Neanderthals laughed.

"Haha, look at this loser with a sandwich on his face!"

"Hey guys, check this out, it's PBJ&D: Peanut Butter Jelly and Dork!"

Although that joke was less than par, the surrounding student body laughed nonetheless. Peeling lunch off his face, Merton shoved his seat back, standing up and read to defend whatever miserable pride he had, when something caught his eye. On the opposite side of the Lunch Hall, leaning on the double doors, was Tommy. The man he met earlier was smiling and laughing along with the other students. Merton would have thought this normal behavior for a jock, but something inside him dropped when he saw Tommy mocking him too. Merton didn't understand why, but he thought Tommy was different. How stupid could he be? Of course Tommy was no different than any other letterman-jacket wearing jock he had ever come across. Merton found himself concentrating on his bullies rather looking at the horror of his current embarrassment. Santa Carla High was just the same as any other High School he'd attended. Tormenting bullies, narcissistic jocks, airheaded cheerleaders, his sister, but despite how much he was terrorized Merton always stood up for himself. However today, Merton didn't feel like it. Suddenly Merton wanted to crawl under a rock and let the unshed tears of his miserable life comfort him until school ended.

"Hey kid, you gonna cry? Like a baby?" His bullies mocked.

"Hey we're talking to you punk!"

Merton's collar was grabbed for the second time that day and he came face to face with one of his burley tormentors. He heard them say something about pounding him into oblivion, but Merton wasn't listening. He had already released himself to whatever physical tribulation he'd encounter that day.

"Mr. Theodore. Mr. Terrence. You put that man down right this instant!"

Merton heard the telltale jingle of a woman's voice but his sudden release to the floor hindered any visual contact. The woman spoke again and Merton looked up in time to see the bullies back away. It was a female teacher, with brunette hair tied in a tight bun and wearing a maroon pantsuit. Dumb and dumber baffled some apologies. The woman didn't seem to care.

"I won't hear your excuses, boys. My office. Now."

"Come on, we said we were sorry Ms. Nee."

"Yeah, just havin' some fun. Give us a break."

The woman seemed to anchor a sense of fear among the surrounding students, and Merton found himself hiding beneath the lunch table. The woman, Ms. Nee, followed in line behind the retreating backs of the two men, and it wasn't until she left the room that the students returned to their socializing. Merton glanced over to the double doors to find that Tommy had disappeared. He must have left earlier, Merton guessed. Picking himself off the floor, the goth returned to his meal in peace for the remainder of the hour.

Merton's final class, gym, had turned out to be the final nail in the coffin of his day. Whatever spurn his two bullies had retained from lunch, was relented on his person the next class. Merton was dragged out behind the school, carried off by TNT, as his two bullies preferred to be called. Thrown on the dirty road in nothing but his gym clothes, TNT began beating into his body. First a punch to the face, followed by a kick to the crotch, Merton wanted to scream but held it in. Finally after TNT got bored with him, they threw Merton into the nearest garbage compactor; a trail of laughter behind them.

Soundly depressed and miserably enraged with his self, Merton pulled his body out of the trash compactor. There was a banana peel on his head, and potato skins in his shorts; never before had Merton felt so humiliated as he did now, shaking garbage out of his clothes. Merton was just about to make the torturous trudge back to his locker when he heard a sharp scream. It came from around the corner of the building; a high-pitched guttural shriek that sounded like someone bludgeoned him over the head with a cinder block.

Deciding to investigate, Merton shuffled up to the building's junction and peeked beyond the crook. It was Tommy. The man was withering against the brick wall, both hands supporting his weight as he heaved and screamed in pain. Merton watched on in horror as Tommy clutched his stomach and growled out in rage. Merton was just about to call out and ask if Tommy need help, but before he could utter a word he watched in disgust as Tommy vomited out the contents of his stomach all over the wall. Merton's eyes widened in terror at the sight, it couldn't be; it was blood! Pools of blood sprayed all over the brick wall and cement ground, and that wasn't all. Merton almost gagged at what he saw next. It was human! Great globs of human flesh flushed out with the blood in sloppy grotesque slobs. Merton saw fingers, teeth, and human hair within the blobs of raw meat sprayed about the floor. The goth couldn't take the horror any longer. Merton screamed and ran away.

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A/N: All right that's chapter one. If this story picks up in popularity I'll update more often. As it stands I have several other fanfics I'm juggling, so it's all up to you reviewers!


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